


A Hop, Skip, and Jump Away

by Jerenda



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: Complete, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Love and Loss, MOM What Part of Saving the World Means Call Me This Instant, One Shot, Pokemon as Therapy, Saving the World Mom Call You Back Later, Slice of Life, srsly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerenda/pseuds/Jerenda
Summary: When her only daughter decides to go on a Pokemon journey, Mom finds herself alone and struggling with what to do next. Life seems emptier without a ten-year-old to brighten it up, but when she finds an injured Pokemon in the wild she'd faced with another conundrum. She doesn't know the first thing about caring for Pokemon, but she can't just leave it there... can she?





	A Hop, Skip, and Jump Away

“Mom!” Kris bursts through the front door, nearly knocking a vase over with her enthusiasm. I look pointedly at the vase until she grabs it and the rocking settles. She grins, too excited to worry about the vase for long. “I got a Pokemon!”

She’s got a red-and-white ball hanging from her belt to prove it, too. It matches her jacket, white with red trim, so she kind of looks like a Pokeball all over. I grin at her. “That’s great, Kris!”

“And this kid stole one of Professor Elm’s Pokemon!” she rushes on. “I fought him, but he got away. Even though I defeated him!”

“Did you now?” My little girl’s growing up. I can’t help feeling a pang of sorrow. Before I know it, she’ll be saving the world.

“Yeah. It was awesome!” She makes a fist and pumps it in the air, eyes afire. “My Cyndaquil is the best! We are gonna be a Gym-defeating _machine_!”

“As long as you make some friends while you’re at it,” I remind her. “There’s no point in seeing the world all by yourself.”

“I’ll have Cyndaquil with me,” she retorts, before realizing what I said. “Wait, you mean it, Mom? I can go on a Pokemon adventure?”

Now my smile is real. Her eyes are so wide. She looks just like she did when she was five and her father took us to a Gym battle for the first time. It seemed a little violent to me, but she loved it. Ever since then, she’d been telling me nonstop that she was going to be the very best.

“Of course you can, honey,” I say. She whoops and jumps in the air, fist raised high. Before she can rush out the door, I add, “And to celebrate, I have a present for you.”

“What, really?” She stops with her hand on the doorknob. “What is it?”

I laugh at her suspicious expression. She’s probably remembering last April Fool’s Day, when I made her a ‘present’ of my specialty Cinnabar Volcano Burgers - with sour Rawst berries instead of the usual double spicy Cheri.

“It’s something your father left for you. It just got back from the shop.” I go to the kitchen and indicate the box it came in.

Kris pulls the lid off. Bubble wrap pours out of the box as she lifts out the device. It looks like a large blue wristwatch, with white pokeball patterns on the side. “What is it?” she asks, turning it over.

“It’s your father’s Pokegear,” I say, helping her fasten it on her wrist. “You can use it to call me and let me know how you’re doing. Your father wore it all the time when he was an Ace Trainer.”

“Wow,” Kris says, admiring it. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best!” She catches me by surprise with a big hug. I hug her back, realizing she comes up to my shoulder now. A few more years and she’ll be taller than me.

There’s that melancholy, back again. I blink it away and smile at my girl. “Here, let me set it up for you.” I sit across from her at the kitchen table. “You should always save some of your prize money, you know.”

“I know, Mom,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need another boring lecture on budgeting.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “Be polite, Kris.” She blushes. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to set some of your winnings aside for you. I can set up your Pokegear to do that automatically, and then you’ll have some savings for emergency Revives.”

Now she looks sheepish. “Oh. Uh, sure. Thanks.”

She sits still while I press buttons on her Pokegear and pretend I know how to configure it. I wish I hadn’t lost the manual - her father knew how to work it, but I never paid attention, and now I can’t exactly ask him for advice.

“Hey, Mom?” Kris asks just when I think I’ve figured it out. “Why didn’t you ever go on a Pokemon adventure?”

I laugh. “Me? Why would I want to? When I was your age, I lived in Goldenrod City and was learning how to cook. I cooked for all sorts of people and Pokemon. That was plenty of adventure for me.” The Pokegear dings, which either means _yes that worked_ or _stop fiddling with the buttons_. I sit back, reminiscing. “I met your father as a chef, you know. He fell in love with my cooking, and then he fell in love with me.” I still miss him.

Kris sticks her tongue out. “Gross! I did _not_ need to know that.”

I shake my head at her. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a cute trainer of your own while you’re out there.”

“Ugh!” Kris pushes back her chair and storms out. “I’m ten, I do not want a boyfriend!”

I grin at her retreating back. “You never know who you might meet! Have fun out there!” I call as she goes through the front door. I lean on the windowsill and watch her walk down the road toward Route 29. Her lone Pokeball swings on her belt. _Be safe_ , I want to shout. _Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Call home._

But she doesn’t want to hear any of those things, and I don’t want to mess up this moment, so I watch in silence as she walks away.

# # # # #

The harvest is good that year and winter settles in as Kris wanders the world, kicking butt and collecting badges. I make pies and salads and spicy volcano burgers, but without Kris to eat all my food, I end up giving most of them away to the neighbors. She calls home regularly to tell me all about the latest Gym she beat. I run out of things to cook and start eating microwave dinners, when I remember to eat. Elm comes to visit, but it isn’t the same.

When the snow starts to melt and the Pidgey return to the woods, calling to each other in harsh staccato cries, I begin my yearly preparations for planting. The Cheri trees are doing fine, their long spindly branches laden with buds, but there are flowers to plant. The last snow comes and goes, and the trees fill with pink blossoms, but I keep finding reasons to wait. Kris and I always broke the ground together. It seems wrong to get started without her.

One evening, I’m rereading the yearly _Johto’s Almanac_ on my living room floor. The sunlight fades, fades, and dies completely. I sit up and my stomach growls in hunger, as if it had been waiting for me to be distracted long enough to pounce. I try to remember the last thing I ate. Lunch? No, I wasn’t hungry at noon, and then I forgot. Petulant children never let you forget _they’re_ hungry. Breakfast. I had breakfast today, I’m sure.

I shake my head in disgust. “This is ridiculous,” I say to the vase in the corner. “First thing tomorrow, we’re planting those flowers.”

I set my alarm for sunrise and I don’t let myself hit sleep. With the first rays of dawn peeking over the horizon, I break out my gardening supplies and get to work. I want four neat clusters between Professor Elm’s house and mine, where I’ll plant white and orange flowers in turn.

I hoe out the rough shape of the garden before I break for an early lunch. The rich smell of freshly broken dirt fills the air, and there’s a pleasing ache in my muscles.

“See, this was a good idea,” I tell my mailbox.

It doesn’t respond, but I do hear something else. The Pokemon in the woods are usually quite noisy, but this is a whole cluster of Pidgey chirping all together, like a horde. And I think I can hear a second kind of cry as well, a high-pitched “Ree! Reeeee!”

I look around. Professor Elm is in his lab, probably buried in a book as usual. One of the neighbor kids is playing on his porch, but no one else is around. There’s another burst of chirping, closer now. It’s coming from Route 29.

I can’t stand by and let a horde of Pokemon descend on New Bark Town. Elm’s the only one with a Pokemon to defend us, and he’s not a battler. I get to my feet and pick up my trowel. It won’t be very effective against a Pokemon, but it’s all I’ve got. Clumps of dirt fall off my apron as I walk down the road.

I hesitate before stepping onto Route 29. I’ve been this way before, of course, but never by myself. I always go with the neighborhood moms, because the wild Pokemon won’t attack large groups. Then I hear the second cry again, the high-pitched one. It sounds like… screaming, almost.

Holding my trowel in front of me like a sword, I charge forward. “What’s going on here?” I shout in my best mom voice. Beyond the tree line, next to the first patch of tall grass, a trio of brown Pidgey shoot into the air. They scatter with a series of panicked chirps. I wave my trowel at the last one. “That’s right! You’d better run!”

I lower my trowel and take a few deep breaths. My heart is pounding in my ears like I’ve just run a marathon. Apparently Pidgey are as susceptible to the mom voice as guilty toddlers. I feel a bit foolish for having worried.

Then I hear the whirring again. What I thought was spiky leaves of grass moves, and I realize there’s a squishy pink blob attached to the grass. A squishy pink blob with _eyes_.

I take a step back by instinct, raising my trowel again. “You… you’d better watch it,” I say, but it doesn’t come off as strong when your voice is shaking.

The pink blob rolls over and looks at me. “Pip?” it says. One of its green leaves is broken, close to falling off, and red drops of blood fall from the cut. It has two triangular ears and little pink nubs for hands and feet, and shallow cuts score its round body. The spiky leaves flutter a bit, letting out a _reeeee_ sound as the whole leaf vibrates against the broken one.

I glance in the direction the Pidgey fled.  “Those Pidgey… they were picking on you, weren’t they?”

The Pokemon wiggles its tiny little tail. “Piiiiiip,” it says.

I’m no trainer. I don’t have potions, I have Cheris. I don’t even have a pokeball to transport the creature in. But… it hasn’t attacked me. I don’t think it _can_ , in the state it’s in. And I can’t leave it here, waiting for the Pidgey to come back.

I tuck the trowel into my apron pocket. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll take you home. But you have to be good, promise? No… no _Volt Tackle_ or whatever it is you things do.”

“Pip,” the Pokemon says, which could mean anything at all, and it holds still as I scoop it up in my apron. I can figure this out. Probably.

# # # # #

The Pokemon faints before I make it home. I shift it to my off hand and pull some rags out from under the sink, arranging them in a nest on the floor. It weighs almost nothing, fitting perfectly inside the crook of my arm. The long green leaves drape over my wrist. When the nest is done, I settle it gently on the rags. Those will soak up the blood while I find my potion supply.

There’s one potion left in my medicine cabinet. I hesitate. I’ll have to get some more, but I was supposed to be saving this money for Kris. She’s been making a good amount, sending some back home like she promised, and I don’t want to disappoint her.

But I promised I’d take care of this Pokemon, and I mean to follow through. I take the potion out and spray it over the creature, focusing on the wounds. The cuts on its body seal shut quickly enough, but I don’t have enough medicine to fix the broken leaf entirely. The creature shifts slightly into its box, sinking deeper in the rags, and its eyes relax into happy half-circles. It’s kind of cute, now that it's asleep.

Then I head into the living room and call the one person I know who knows more about Pokemon than anyone else: Kris.

She picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

“Hi honey! I have a question I was hoping you could answer.”

She hesitates. “Uh, is it urgent? I'm in the middle of stopping Team Rocket. They're going around stealing people's Pokemon. It's kind of a big deal.”

I glance at the sleeping Pokemon. “It won't take long, really. You can get right back to rescuing Rocket or whatever.”

She gives me a long-suffering sigh. “I'm rescuing Pokemon _from_ Team Rocket, Mom. Okay, what is it?”

“Is there a kind of Pokemon with a pink body and, er, big green leaves for hair? Spiky ones?”

“What is this, a pop quiz?” Despite her sass, I hear her pressing some buttons on her Pokegear. “Do you know where I'd find it?”

“Ah, I heard there were some on Route 29, outside our house. But I've never seen anything like it.”

She presses a few more buttons. “Oh, Hoppip! Yeah, it's a newer Pokemon to the area. I think it migrated here this last year. My ‘Dex says ‘It can be carried away on even the gentlest breeze. It may even float all the way to the next town.’ Maybe that’s what it’s doing out there.”

“Does your Pokedex say what kind of food it likes to eat?”

“You've never been this interested in Pokemon before, Mom. What's up?”

I can't tell her I brought a Hoppip home. She'll get all excited and think I want to keep it. “Oh, something has been going after my Cheri trees. I wasn't sure what it was.”

“Huh. Well, it depends on the Pokemon what berries they like. Some like spicy, some like sweet, even within the same species. If you need help keeping stray Pokemon away from your trees, I could Fly back home for a bit.”

“Oh, no, it's fine. Nothing I can’t handle!” I pause, thinking over my next question. “Besides, don't your Pokemon get tired of flying all over the place?”

“Nah, Crobat loves it. It's way easier than battling.”

Ah-hah! An opening. “What do you do when they get hurt? When they’re battling, I mean.”

“... I usually take them to Nurse Joy, Mom.” I can hear the suspicion rolling off her voice. “But if I'm far away, or in the middle of something like _battling Team Rocket and saving the world_ , I’ll use a few super potions and a whole bunch of berries. Oran berries are great for everything.” I grin. She’s helpful even when she’s annoyed. “Now, is there anything else you need?”

“Oh, no, I'm good. Thanks!”

Kris laughs a little. “Anytime. Love you!”

“Love you too, baby girl.”

Kris makes gagging noises and I hang up on her, laughing.

# # # # #

That afternoon, I persuade my neighbors to take a quick trip to Cherrygrove, where there’s a Pokemart. When I get home I open the door gently, so as not to wake the sleeping Pokemon, but there’s a squeak from the kitchen. I take a deep breath, tell myself I’m being silly, and go into the kitchen. “Hey there,” I say, trying to sound casual. Its eyes are round yellow balls of surprise. “I got you some more medicine.”

“Hoppip?” It reaches for the package I’m holding.

“No, not that,” I tell it, pulling away. “That’s for Kris.” I set the wrapped box on the table. It’s a Charmander doll - I shouldn’t have got it, but it was so cute, and maybe it’ll make up for spending her money.

The rest of the bags I unload onto the counter, sorting through items deftly. I’m a little uncomfortable with it watching me, and I find myself talking to settle my nerves. “I got you some Oran berries to help you recover, but they are bland on their own. I’m going to make us a salad. Do you like asparagus?”

It waits patiently while I work, cheeping occasionally as if in response to the things I say. The work is familiar and comforting, and I can almost forget there’s a Pokemon in my kitchen.

When the salad is done, I divide it into two bowls. Extra Oran berries for Hoppip, and my favorite homemade dressing for me. “Here you go.”

It examines the bowl. With one hand, it reaches out and pokes the blue ceramic. When nothing happens, it pulls a lettuce leaf out and takes a bite. Its eyes crinkle and it spits the leaf out. “Pip,” it says, gagging.

“Come on,” I say. “How can you know you don’t like it if you won’t even try?”

It pushes the bowl away and scoots back into its bed, covering its face with its good leaf.

I let out a sigh. “Don’t be like that.” I sit down on the floor, spear a berry with my fork, and hold it out to the Pokemon. “Mmm, yummy food!”

It doesn’t look at me.

I scan my kitchen, not sure what to do. My eyes land on the bottle of dressing. “Well…” I say, pretending to be reluctant. “I could give you some of this.” I pull the bottle down from the table. “But I don’t know… this is _my_ dressing, and you might not like it.”

It peeks out from under its leaf.

“That’s right,” I say. “My special homemade dressing. It’s very spicy. I only give it to good little girls. And Pokemon,” I add. This always worked on Kris.

“Pip,” it says, inching closer.

“You want some?” I ask, smiling.

It nods.

“Okay, but if I give you some, you have to promise me you’ll eat your food.”

It emerges fully from its leaf. “Hoppip,” it says.

I still have no idea what that means, but I’ll take it. I drizzle some over the top of its salad, careful not to add too much. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was spicy. Usually the novelty of having Mom’s food is enough.

The Pokemon takes an asparagus piece and dips it in the dressing, then takes a bite. A big smile spreads over its face. “Hoppip!” It pulls the bowl closer and eats with gusto, seeming to forget I’m there.

I lean back on my hands and smile. “You really like that,” I say, not expecting an answer. “Huh.” I sit and watch it eat, and for once I don’t feel lethargic or restless. I’m content to be in my kitchen, making someone happy.

# # # # #

Over the next few days I’m able to straighten out Hoppip’s broken leaf and seal the cut shut. One morning, I go downstairs and find it no longer in the kitchen, but flying around the living room. Its leaves are fully healed, and it’s flying by spinning them around in a circle. _Whap whap whap._ I'm so surprised, I laugh aloud.

“What a silly way to travel,” I tell it. “But I'm glad you're feeling better. I guess it's time to go, then.”

“Pip, pip!” it cheeps at me, full of energy. “Hoppip!”

I grin. “‘Hoppip’ to you too. You have a good time out there, okay? Be careful of Pidgey.” I open the door and step outside, Hoppip following close behind. Fallen pink blossoms litter my driveway and flowerbeds, and the air is filled with the perfume of spring. I stretch in the morning sunlight and tell myself I’m not sad.

“Hmm… do you see that?” I shade my eyes and peer up into the sky.

“Hoppip?” It lands on the porch and mimics my pose, and I have to laugh. Okay, maybe I am a _little_ sad. But that’s part of life - you spend years taking care of them, and then your children grow up and leave you. And you figure out how to carry on without them. Somehow.

There’s definitely a black speck in the sky, and it’s growing bigger every second. I jump up and down, waving as if she can see me from this distance.

The Hoppip lets out a shrill cry and takes off into the house, moving way faster than I thought it could. I half-turn. Should I go after it? But before I can decide, there’s a thunderous beating of wings, and Kris is coming in for a landing.

Her Crobat lands in the center of the village, the only space big enough for it. She jumps off the huge bat and pats it between the ears. It lets out a deafening cry, nuzzling against her hand. Then it vanishes into its Pokeball with a flash of white light.

“Welcome home!” I say, catching her in a hug. Her ponytails are sticking straight out to either side, but it’s not because of her flight here. Apparently it's the latest fashion in Goldenrod City. I think it makes her look like a punk girl instead of my sweet little trainer, but what do I know?

“Thanks, Mom.” She hugs me back. “I defeated the latest batch of Team Rocket goons, so until they come up with something more challenging, I figured I’d take a trip back to see you. Whatcha up to?”

I chuckle, feeling nervous for some reason. “Nothing much. I got the garden started.”

She presses her hand to her heart and gasps. “Without me?”

I ruffle her hair. “I can’t always be waiting on you now, can I?”

“I suppose not,” she says. “Hey, is there anything for breakfast? I’m starving!” She heads inside and I trail after her.

The Hoppip is nowhere to be seen, but I have a pretty good guess where it went. “Oh, don’t go into the kitchen,” I say.

It’s the wrong thing to say. “Why not?” she asks, her eyes bright. “Is there cake? You made cake, didn’t you?” She edges closer to the kitchen.

“Why would I make cake? I didn’t even know you were coming.” I step around her, blocking her view, and peek into the kitchen. There’s Hoppip, hiding under one of the old blankets I got out for it.

“Then what’s in the kitchen?” Kris asks. She leans over, trying to see around me.

“N-nothing!” My eyes land on the wrapped box I got a few days ago. “A surprise.”

“A surprise? What is it?” Kris tries to go around me, but I block her.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” I say, running on autopilot.

“Hoppip!” The Pokemon explodes out of its blankets. It flies between Kris and me, shouting its name over and over. Kris stumbles backwards, her mouth falling open in shock.

“Woah, woah!” I say, holding out my hands. “Calm down. Everything is fine.”

It points at Kris and babbles a string of syllables. It sounds indignant.

Kris bursts out laughing. “It’s defending you,” she says between gasps. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” The Hoppip frowns at her, confused out of its anger. “Was that the surprise? You have a Pokemon now?”

“I don’t!” I protest. “That’s - that’s not my Hoppip.”

“Right,” Kris says. “It’s just living in your house, defending you from strangers, and-” she peeks around the corner “-sleeping in your kitchen.”

I cross my arms. “It was injured. I was taking care of it for a while, and now it’s time for it to leave.”

At this the Hoppip turns to me and says “Pip?” Its little eyes droop into sad half-circles, and I feel guilty.

“Well, it’s true,” I tell it. “Go ahead. Fly into the wild blue yonder.”

It sinks to the floor and covers its face with its leaves, mewling pitifully.

“Aw, Mom, now you’ve made it cry.” Kris kneels down and pats it, to no effect. “Why don’t you keep it? It likes you, and it’s a perfect Pokemon for you. Hoppip are hardly dangerous.”

I flounder, searching for excuses. “I don’t even have a Pokeball to keep it in,” I tell the pair of them.

“I have plenty.” Kris pulls a spare one out of her bag. “Come on, Mom. It’ll be good for you to have a partner. And I won’t have to worry about you so much.”

“I’m your mother, _I_ worry about _you_ ,” I tell her, but I’m not paying attention. I crouch down next to the Hoppip. “Hey… uh, don’t cry,” I tell it. I reach out a finger and stroke its squishy body.

It lifts one leaf and peers at me. “Hoppip?”

I shrug helplessly. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if you stayed. As long as you promise not to eat my trees or, er, anything.”

It squeals with joy. “Pip!” Its leaves begin to spin, lifting itself into the air.

“Okay, now you give it the Pokeball,” Kris prompts, pressing one into my hands.

I hold it up, feeling awkward, and the Hoppip vanishes in a blur of white light. With a click, it’s done. I have a Pokemon.

“Woohoo!” Kris shouts, jumping into the air. “You did it, Mom!”

I suppose I did. I give Kris a hug. “I still have a surprise for you, you know.”

“That doesn’t count?” Kris asks.

“Besides Hoppip.” I pick up the package I had wrapped in Cherrygrove. “I’m afraid I spent a bit of your money,” I apologize. “But I got you this while I was there!”

She grins at me. “You had to buy some things for Hoppip, didn’t you?” I nod. “Then I don’t mind at all.”

# # # # #

The next morning, after Kris has left, I stand just outside the entrance to Route 29.  The chirps and rustles mean the route is full of wild Pokemon, as usual. I gather my courage.

“Hoppip, I choose you!” I shout, and throw the Pokeball. Kris says I don’t have to shout, but it makes me feel better. A flash of white light, and Hoppip is hovering in the air beside me. It chirps at me. “Come on, Hoppip, let’s go to the city.”

I reach up and take one of its little pink hands. I can do this.

No - _we_ can do this. Together, we step onto the route.

“Hoppip!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my awesome beta readers: Pyroth, Moki, Igornerd, Storm, and the entire AAC!
> 
> And thanks to YOU for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
